


Goodbye

by sevenxhells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, The Stranger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenxhells/pseuds/sevenxhells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may have failed, but he couldn't let her go. Not yet. Missing scene/AU from The Stranger after the confrontation in the woods. Minor spoilers for season 2. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to write something straight angst so I'm not sure if I pulled it off or not. Sorry if it ends up just being like all kinds of cheese. Also if you're interested, check out the song Goodbye by Apparat. And as always, thanks to Snarky for helping me out.

_Then you're all screwed._

Emma's voice echoed in August's ears as he watched her, slack-jawed and stunned as she walked, no… bolted away from him. As fast as possible.

The months he'd spent helping her slowly along and gaining her trust were for nothing. He failed. Not just his childhood mission, a mission that went far beyond what the responsibility of a 7-year-old should have been, but he'd failed an entire town, his father, Henry…

August snapped out of his daze just in time to see Emma's blond hair bounce out of sight and he took off, favoring his left leg as he limped along the forest floor. It was more difficult than usual, his leg having become more like a prosthetic than a part of his body. And it didn't help when that very morning, he'd noticed the toes on his other foot taking on its partner's wooden properties as well.

He was losing more of himself every day.

He was losing Emma now.

As he rounded the curve of the path, his breath hitched in his throat as he saw Emma's diminishing silhouette illuminated against the blinding lights of the roadside diner. He needed to reach her, to touch her, to find  _some way_  to prove to her.

Prove what to her? That he's not crazy? That he's really Pinocchio?

That he's in love with her?

He shook the thought from his mind and staggered toward the bustling restaurant, watching as Emma disappeared through the door. After using what remained of his strength to get there, he pushed his way inside and looked around, spotting her huddled against a payphone mounted on the wall near the cash register.

"Emma."

She whipped around at the sound of his voice. His heart wrenched to see her eyes red and puffy with the glint of moisture streaked down her cheeks.

It had never been his intention to be the cause of her misery, yet here he was, for the second time.

The first time was easier because he had been so far removed from her life, only observing her from a distance. The first time, there was someone else to place the blame on, someone else to be held responsible for the severity of her pain. But with no one left between them, August knew hiding was no longer an option.

Emma's glare was cold, and she didn't need to say a word for August to understand he wasn't wanted. But he refused to leave her again, no matter how much she might want him to in this moment. So he approached her slowly.

"Emma," he repeated like an incantation, a prayer.

She tensed visibly and he noticed she was hunched over a phone book, a finger tracing shakily along a list of numbers, most likely in search of a taxi service. August knew better than to let her try to get home without him, so he attempted to gain her attention a third time.

"Emma…" Now it had turned into a plea, a desolate attempt at some form of contact.

"Leave me alone," she hissed quietly. It seemed to August that her sense of discretion outweighed what he could only assume, based on her body language, was an intense urge to lash out at him.

"Come on, what are you doing? You know you'll never get a cab back to Storybrooke." He tried to keep his tone as even as possible, hoping she didn't notice when it wavered ever so slightly. He leaned in sideways against the ledge of the payphone, almost too close to her, trying to achieve some eye contact.

"Yeah? And why's that?" She spat as she turned to him. Even through her anger, August could see there was something akin to affection behind her eyes.

A rotund man wearing a grease-stained apron watched them from the opposite side of the counter. August lowered his head and spoke softly.

"Have you ever looked for Storybrooke on a map? A cab will never find the road that leads there and you know why? Because it doesn't exist to anyone but us."

"That's  _enough_ ," Emma snarled, her voice rising uncomfortably loud.

The heat rose to August's cheeks as the small, red-faced man at the counter began to make his way toward them.

"Emma, please… Let me take you back and I promise I'll never bother you again." He moved his hand up to brush the hair away from her shoulder, bringing it to rest gently on her arm. The gesture was one of… what? comfort? affection?

Whatever the intention, the message was not well received.

"Don't touch me!" Barked Emma and pushed him forcefully away. Her whole body trembled with rage, eyebrows knit together in a mixture of confusion and fear.

"Hey, everything okay over there?" The round man came barreling toward them. Now he was close enough to see the tears swelling from Emma's eyes.

"Yeah, everything's fine." August tried to sound as calm and assured as possible, waving his hand to dismiss the man, but it didn't take.

"I was talking to the lady," he corrected brusquely, staring August down for a moment before turning his attention toward Emma. "You okay, lady?"

A wave of relief washed over August when Emma nodded, a sob clearly trapped in her throat, though he waited anxiously for the man to leave. After a beat, he spoke again.

"You sure? I can call the cops on this loser. Just say the word."

August fought the urge to roll his eyes. This situation required a delicate balance and August was desperate to hold everything together long enough to get Emma home.

"Emma, please…" His voice cracked as he whispered to her, hoping she could hear the wretchedness in his words.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Emma blinked her lids open, holding back her tears.

The man grumbled under his breath as he walked away and the only audible phrase August could make out was  _lowlife scum._  Though it enraged him, he knew the man wasn't too far off.

Over the years, be it drinking himself to death or gambling away $20,000 that didn't belong to him (another painful anecdote to add to the ever-growing list), the thought had crossed his own mind. More than once. It became the only way to justify his actions. He was scum, the lowest form of biology on the planet. But all that changed the moment he stepped off of his bike and saw Emma for the first time in Storybrooke.

She was devastatingly lovely, even in the dim ambient light streaming from shop windows and street lamps, her blond hair spilling around her shoulders in a mess of curls. He grinned as he recognized that they shared an affinity for leather jackets. Then he noticed the kid. Her kid. He tried to do the math, realizing all too quickly that there was no way she could have gotten pregnant with him after getting out of prison. As a new and different type of pain seared across his chest, he swore in that moment not only to help Emma, but the son she had to give up as well.

Emma wiped her face, trying to pull herself together before looking up at him, a new resolve setting over her features. "Fine. Get me back to town." She slammed the cover of the phone book closed, and stomped off towards the door.

By the time August made it outside, Emma had already fastened her helmet and stood with her arms crossed next to his bike. He knew better than to try and talk to her again, so he strapped on his own helmet and mounted the bike in silence. After feeling her climb on behind him, she hesitated before placing her hands mechanically against his sides. His stomach lurched recalling the way she'd held him not an hour before. But now she treated him like a stranger, like a person to be feared.

As they wound their through the long, twisting roads, Emma's arms inched further around his waist, until he she was pressed solidly against his back. She clutched at him tighter than she ever had before and nestled her face into his shoulder, letting out a stifled sob. August held back his anguish, trying to focus on the road, though he wished he could return her embrace, wished he could hold her properly and tell her it was going to be all right.

Pulling up in front of Emma's apartment building, he dismounted, removing his helmet and watched her do the same. She avoided eye contact as she snapped the buckle open and set the helmet down on the seat.

Standing in the light of the street lamp, her limp waves of hair framing the desolate look on her features; she was so tragically beautiful and August couldn't allow her to walk away without one last attempt.

"Emma, wait…"

"I have nothing to say to you, August," she huffed as she stalked toward the apartment, fumbling with her keys as she spoke.

He wasn't far behind. "Can't we just talk about this?"

"And what is there left to say?" She stopped at the door, turning to face him fully.

He was close. So close. There were three words on the cusp of his voice, three words he desperately needed her to hear…

But no, it was far too late for that. He opened his mouth, unable to find a proper replacement.

"That's what I thought," she mumbled and turned back to the door, placing her hand on the knob. "You know, it's better this way. I don't have to hear any more of your lies."

The words cut him, but maybe she had a point.

He still believed she would break the curse… she was the savior, after all – the chosen one. But his story was over now and as hard as it was to let her go, as much as he wanted to hold onto her forever, the fact remained that he'd failed. And soon, he would no longer exist.

She swung the door open, but August surprised himself when he caught her by the elbow and pulled her towards him, dipping his head to meet her lips with his in one fluid motion. She leaned up into him, using a hand to grip the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. The kiss was gentle, lasting long enough to feel fully connected to her, if only for one final, fleeting moment.

She broke away, but stayed close, resting her forehead against his. Her breath was warm and ragged on his face, and August kept his eyes clenched shut, determined not to let this moment end. Everything about her was utterly destroying him.

"I love you." His voice was broken. His heart was broken. And somehow, he knew that hers was broken, too.

When she pulled away at last, her mouth that once smiled so radiantly when she saw him, was now twisted downward with a terrible sadness. Tears littered the apples of her cheeks and though August longed to kiss them all away, he stood breathless, staring at her wide-eyed until she turned and took a step into the stairwell, pausing just before she would leave him forever with her face obscured by the door.

"Goodbye, August."

He watched her disappear, still in shock at the day's events. He'd put everything on the line for her, and but she'd proven herself once again to be the most frustratingly stubborn woman he'd ever met.

Finally allowing himself to feel the weight of the situation, August choked back a sob of his own and leaned back against the brick building as his leg seized up suddenly, sending waves of burning pain radiating through his body. When the ache subsided, he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone to check the time. There was a good chance his father would still be at work in his garage. Nearly dragging the dead limb behind him, he made for his bike, glancing up at Emma's apartment just as the kitchen light flickered on. Using his good leg, he kicked the engine to life and then looked out at the darkened road ahead of him.

"Goodbye, Emma."


End file.
